


100 Ways To Say I Love You

by RuraScarlet



Category: SCP Foundation
Genre: Alcohol, Awkward Conversations, Bickering Married Couple, Cottagecore, Domestic Bliss, Hugs, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Marriage Proposal, Multi, Original Character(s), Party, Phone Calls & Telephones, Road Trip, Sharing an umbrella, Sickfic, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27005392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuraScarlet/pseuds/RuraScarlet
Summary: challenge time. gonna make 100 chapters of this bullshit for every item on this list https://theoriginalladya.tumblr.com/post/630083396629135360/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-youtags will be updated with every chapter but feel free to remind me if i missed anythingGod have mercy on my soul.if y'all want a pair to be featured just drop em in the comments. i'll figure it out
Relationships: Agatha Rights/Nobody, Andrea Adams/Iris | SCP-105, Dr. Alto Clef/Dr. Benjamin Kondraki, Dr. Gears/Dr. Iceberg (SCP Foundation), Draven Kondraki/Researcher Talloran, Jack Bright/Dr. Simon Glass, Sophia Light/Troy Lament
Comments: 31
Kudos: 53





	1. "Pull over. Let me drive for a while."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> big gay

"Pull over. Let me drive for a while."

There was a pause filled with the sound of asphalt on wheels, the patter of rain, and the crinkle of paper being folded to mark the page in Julian's book.

"You're not immune to getting sleepy, now, Doctor Gears."  
"I can drive enough, as we agreed we would switch every three and a half hours."

"I took a nap, and you didn't. Give me the wheel."  
"I am not tired."

"You will be, eventually."  
"And I will tell you when I am."

Charles _truly_ wasn't having any of it, and just silently (and a little angrily if you squint) drove on. Pitter patter, and then Julian's reading light flicked off, replaced with a click on the button on wireless headsets Julian got him for his birthday and the muffled thrum of alternative rock through them. He supposed that that settled it, and he had won the argument.

It was twenty minutes before Charles noticed the passenger seat freezing over.

"Doctor Ic—"  
"Hmph."

"...Julian."  
"Hrrrmh."

"Love, forgive me for not understanding dinosaur vocalizations. I am certain you are very smart, taking up Doctor Dove's lessons on that language, but I am no Grail in terms of spoken word."  
"Not funny. Pull over."

And so Charles did. Lit with the yellow street lamp reflecting on the wet trees and road alongside a crooked IHOP sign in the distance.

"Charlie," Julian starts, with a whine in his voice that Charles is familiar with, "Why are you always like this when you drive?"

"Like what?" Charles asks, like a liar, "I am simply proceeding as how we agreed."

"And you're _proceeding_ to be weird about- well- I don't know what this shit's all about, but you getting mad about something and not saying anything about it is stressing me the fuck out. I thought we were over this and-" Julian let out a sob, Charles turned off the engine, "-and I know, that Glass said that it wouldn't be soon that you'd be- well, _no, let me rephrase that, that's mean-_ I just. Please, if you can't say why, just tell me that it's not my fault, even if it's a lie, because I-"

Charles was now facing Julian fully, but unmoving. He's not sure if movement is a good idea, especially when Julian is trying so hard to move his arms and hands around to find the point of his words.

It's endearing, but his face stayed the same.

"Oh don't you- don't you dare deflate your shoulders and try to be cute like that."  
"I am not trying." A pause, a joke from Clef comes to mind, "I am succeeding."

There is a miscellaneous noise of exasperation from Julian, followed by a firm (but gentle) smack to Charles' arm.

"I can't believe I said my _I do_ s to you."  
"If it is worth anything, I am also at a loss on why you married me."

"Because."  
"Of?"

"Because- well. Actually, no. Apologize for making me cry first. And give me a hug."  
"I apologize for not communicating to you on why I..."

And then a hug. Charles holds for as long as he could before his ever-thinning cold resistance told him to stop.

"I apologize. It is still difficult."  
"You always try better, so I don't... I won't hold it against you."

"...Julian?"  
"Mm?"

"Because of what, Julian, that you love me?"

"You...

You're the embodiment of _actions speak louder than words._ You don't... say anything, which is infuriating as hell. Like right now. What the fuck's the backstory with you and road trips? You make me think that I do something wrong sometimes, and cause the most infuriating miscommunication instances at work, but I know you've been eyeing that IHOP and you're going to bust out your wallet because pancakes cheer me up like nothing else because that's the only way you can show your love which ISN'T YOUR FAULT by the way- which makes me feel bad for wanting you to smile more and be a little more expression-ed and it's a shitty cycle I hate it.

I hate. Myself. For wanting more love than your maximum, I guess. I'm sorry too for— well. For me. Dealing with my bullshit."

"I cannot forgive you for that."  
"Yeah, I suck—"

"Because you cannot be faulted for feeling, as I cannot be faulted for lack of it."

A pause.

"You're not a robot, Charlie. You're not un-feeling. If you were, would you come in just a little late every valentine's day, with roses for our office? Would you have remembered my birthday and arrange for that weird room-search prank thing with the blue cake? Would you be driving right now, to come out to the parents you haven't even _seen_ in the past decade or so, because I made an offhand comment about it last week?"

"...I suppose not."

"Then say that you love me."

Charles tucked a tuft of hair behind Julian's ear, kissed his cheek, and forhead, and nose (an endearing giggle and a _hey, that tickles!_ is heard).

Then a kiss on the lips for real.

"Julian."  
"Yeah?"

"Do you think, in this case, actions speak louder than words?"  
"God, just shut up and drive."


	2. "It reminded me of you."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> flamingo oh oh oh oh if youre multicoloured thats cool too
> 
> draven is a bicon btw

"It reminded me of you."

There was a deafening moment of silence, but then, laughter bubbled in Draven's throat as he lovingly took the little flamingo pen from his new girlfriend, Cecilia. Pretty, nice, a little bit of a goblin, and works as a field researcher, which goes perfectly with Draven's existing job.

Talloran, who lacks a first name to be referred to as in this narrative, looks at them both and envies. The unknowing, the human, and love. He... no, it's they/them today, actually. They're looking into the hole poked between their place in reality and where it actually functions, while idly stirring a cup of coffee to bring up to Doctor Kondraki's office. Staring at the two, cooing and nuzzling each other.

It wasn't like Talloran _wasn't_ happy for Draven. After all, they did, in fact, ghost the guy for eight months and disappeared for three more, so they had no right to complain that he'd simply moved on from them. Which is good. That's good. No one deserves to deal with three million years of fever dream nightmare bullshittery.

"...ran... Talloran."

The plastic stirrer noclips into the cup handle. Again. At least this time Talloran had learned how to un-noclip things, so it wasn't as bad. Back to the voice, the one who called their name was Cecilia, actually, which they didn't quite know how to react to as they barely interacted.

"Ah there we go. Good morning."  
"...hey, uh. Agent..."

"Callsign Nightlily but just call me Cecilia. Cici is acceptable too, so, get friendly."  
"Sure..."

There's a distinct lack of Draven in this scene now. They wonder where he's gone for a brief moment, but the dialogue continues.

"Anyway. I've poked around. I hope you don't mind me talking about your previous relationship with my boyfriend?"

_Ow. That stings._

"Maybe over a cup of coffee?"  
"I have to take this up to the Site Director."

"Perfect! I was just heading up there too. Unless, of course, you would buy my un-annoyingness by answering me a question or two?"

Talloran wished sometimes, that they could actually go behind the wall where reality leaked over from the other side, but they simply sighed, put the coffee on a tray to pick it up, and said,

"Fine."  
"Do you still love Draven?"

They expected this question. They've answered dream-Draven's _**do you love me**_ questions for a few thousand years on end, after all. So they answer, rehearsedly,

"Yes, of course I do."  
"Romantically?"

Now that. Was a little tricky, and always is, for a bit after asking. But Talloran knew variation, and simply answered,

"Why would I get jealous, looking at you, then?"  
"Fair enough. But hey. Listen. I'm not gonna like, treat you like some off kilter ass entity or anything, so just take this as it is: Draven loves you too. But not in the way he loves me."

"...as in?"  
"Which is why I'm asking if it's still actually romantic with you, because really, dude-"

"They/them today."  
"Sorry. Really, thude, I think you both need to talk this out. You don't have to talk about that heavy relationship shit; God knows what argument made you leave in the first place, but just.

Draven thinks about you. Gets nightmares. Reads that book you let him borrow sometimes. I was here for him for when he was deep in the basement of my house working on pataphysics tech to get you home, and I know how much he actually cares. He feels shitty, that he let you walk out and die like that. There's an unsaid guilt that he keeps and he stares at you sadly sometimes and...."

"...and?"  
"You... remind me of him. So much."

Talloran starts laughing now, and cries a little bit.

"God, I'm a dumbass."  
"Talloran, there's no greater dumbass than me right now. Don't worry."

"No, no. You... you're like. You've provided me with a new perspective, I guess."  
"You're welcome. And uh, also. Open invitation for dinner at Draven's tonight, 7PM. This conversation was really just a vehicle to say that, really. He won't talk to you himself so he's backing himself into a corner on purpose."

"And you're expecting me to show up?"  
"Yeah. Or I'll eat the chocolate you've been stashing in the commons minifridge."

Talloran turned their heel towards Doctor Kondraki's office. Fake-mulling over it. Craving some good carbonara.

"I'll bring cookies if you save me some pasta?"  
"Ooooh, is that, a feature? That you know he's been into making that creamy noodle stuff?"

"No," they say, like a liar, "I just thought of it, and it's happening, so."  
"Cool. Cool."

Some conversations hang awkwardly in the air, like this one, ending on them taking different directions out of the break room. Most of the time it's an unpleasant bump in the day, but... to Talloran, it's a little less of that, and more of a bit of closure. With a little hurt and a lot of love but full of effort to promise a better _something_ going forward, they think of outfits to wear for dinner.

Oh, that's. Warm and fuzzy.

Cecilia reminds them of Draven, when he asked them for a first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was about to make this more angsty but i'm very gay and yearning so have some potential future polycule instead


	3. "No, no, it's my treat."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i think the burny man deserves nice things and also a girlfriend that doesn't try to super murder him on an exploding train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning for alcohol and suggestive themes

"No, no, it's my treat."

Jeremiah was in a familiar drunken stupor. So drunken, in fact, that he had started dinging a small sugar spoon on the various empty glasses in front of him, and struck a thin martini glass a little too hard, causing it to break.

He reached into his pocket to get his wallet out, but someone handed the bartender their credit card. And that's when the words hit him. Someone's about to pay for his mistake.

"NO! No- nuh. I'mmmm. Fine. Just gotta get my wallebhft-"

Long acryllic nails press gently into his upper lip. Small hand. His eyes, bleary from alcohol, tried very hard to focus in on the face attached. Green eyes blink back at him, and that was enough to have the rest of the face come in view for just a second before things got blurry again.

"You," lips move, red as wine, "Are very drunk. Allow the sober one to pay, and you can give back later."

Two seconds and the fingers come off, and the woman sidled up on the barstool next to him.

"Clear this up, and let me haaave...." her voice is lovely, holy shit, "A red-eye bull please. Thank you."

Jeremiah vaguely registers the sound of heels being dropped on the floor, and the feeling of having a foot crawl slowly up his leg. Holy fucking shit. Green eyes bat playfully at him, nails tap-tap-tapping in rhythm on the bar. Soon enough, her leg was laid on top of his.

"Wh...... can I get uhhhh name?"  
"My name? How about yours first, darling?"

"Mmmjrmyah"  
"Jeremy?"

Jeremiah squinted at her like she was a sheet of taxes. Then said, "Je.re.mi.ah?"  
"Jeremiah. Lovely. How many drinks to buy your last name?"

"Fr free. 'S thanks. Is Cimmerian."  
"Jeremiah Cimmerian. Sounds like a name that belongs in movie credits. With that dashing coat and all, I'd think I'd hazard that you're in the showbiz, darling."

Jeremiah shook his head.

"No? Well, that makes me seeing you rather exclusive, doesn't it? A one-time chance meeting."

Her drink gets served, and she thanked the bartender before drinking from the highball glass. Her lips curled around the metal straw, maintaining eye contact with Jeremiah as the drink disappeared down her throat.

This was the part of the night where Jeremiah would either get a squeeze for the night or a slap to the face; where his confidence teetered on ego just enough that he became oh so bold as to run a hand up this nameless lady's thigh. The drink was swiftly finished, and he tasted cherry tart in her mouth with a side of something he can't quite place.

And then the world blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mystery lady intrigue


	4. "Come here. Let me fix it."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is this cottagecore
> 
> also i rewrote this 3 times i am so sorry to who requested clefdraki because im not that proud of this lmao

"Come here. Let me fix it."  
"No, fuck you."

It's a wonderful day in a forest vaguely in Virginia, where a log cabin settled neatly in a little clearing. Dead grass and evergreen trees, the smell of rain and rotting wood. Lilts of birds in the distance singing their morning chirps and the sizzle of eggs on the stove. Far away from anyone, and a place to be anomalous out in the open without witnesses. Comfortable, cozy, and warm. Clef has slowly, over the years, grown comfortable in his own skin. Found time to fine-tune his third eye to not see the dips and rises in reality, but to instead help him control those rises and dips in reality to protect his home.

Oh yeah, and Kondraki too. Who's trying so, so hard to get the damn vacuum cleaner working.

"Sweetie darling, you should start by actually emptying it."  
"I already did, Alto. I'm not a fucking idiot."

"And yet it's still not on."  
"Maybe it's just busted. Five years, I think, is how long this piece of crap has been here."

"Well my ass isn't busted and it's been at least two decades, dear."  
"Hey!"

Clef serves up the eggs on the leftover rice pilaf from the night before, and sprinkles chili salt on it before bringing it to the living room. He sets it on the coffee table, then sits on the couch to press a kiss on Kondraki's cheek. Fuzzy. He yawns and comfortably stretches, in a way a cat would, if your definition of a cat happens to be a mass of hairy silly-putty distorted to an unnatural shape.

"Good morning," Clef whispers, settling like a deflated, comfortable pool noodle across Kondraki's lap. The latter only sighs and says back,  
"Good morning."

"If you won't let me fix it, at least eat with me, cutie." Nose boop.  
"Only because you called me a cutie."

"I love you too."

Kondraki hoists Clef up by the armpits and plops him on the couch upright, before putting the vacuum cleaner under the table to deal with later. He picks up the plate and starts eating, sometimes spooning some food into Clef's mouth. Yknow, mushy romance shit.

"You're so lazy sometimes. Won't wash an extra plate, won't spoon his own food."  
"But you don't mind."

"You're damn right."  
"Hehe."

"I love you, you wiggly bastard."  
"I know."

Clef sits up to press a kiss on Kondraki's lips, who in turn, pulls Clef into his lap. The vacuum cleaner is blissfully forgotten, between the lovely warm home and the fresh forest breeze at the space and love they share.


	5. "I'll walk you home."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im want to sleep, have fluff

"I'll walk you home."  
"Oh?"

Jack smiles, a big red umbrella in hand that they open up and face to the sky. It's absolutely _pissing_ rain, and the busy beat of water was very loud in the echoing lobby.

"You live close to the site, right?"  
"I mean it's about seven blocks, but-"

"Perfect. Share an umbrella with me."  
"Sure. Thank you."

Jack brushes it off with a smile, and squeezes close to Simon as they start walking away from the site. Puddles scatter beneath their feet as they walk down the pavement, water reflecting the orange lights coming from the shops down the street.

"You ever shop often, Glass?"  
"Eh. Not really. I go for lunch with Rights sometimes."

"Oh? My best friend? With this cute man of which I've never hung out with?"  
"Yes, with your best friend, of which I've been consulting with on how to get you in my office."

"In your office? You haven't even bought me dinner yet."

Simon stops walking, and Jack stumbles forward, not expecting the sudden halt. Stumbles again, but on their words this time, when Simon said;

"I can change that."

"Wh- wh- what?"  
"Oh! Uh. As in. We can go for dinner?"

Time sort of blacked out for a moment there, but eventually melted into mutual "Oh God I Am So Sorry I've Made This Awkward" and "No, I'd Love To Go Out With You, This Isn't Awkward At All". It would have devolved into an irreparable mess, but mercifully, the conversation was cut short when a motorbike zoomed past, splashing the two with very cold water. The yelp was almost embarrassing, if not for the rudeness of the driver and relief of not having to continue the talk overshadowing the feeling. A little shaking off and umbrella-adjusting later, they somehow made the feels-like-an-hour-but-was-probably-thirty-minutes walk to Glass' apartment building.

That was huge, and rather fancy.

"You _live_ here?"  
"Ah- yeah. I do. It's nothing too fancy or anything, I just live in a nice building. Come on, let's just get inside- rain's picking up."

Two doors of buzzing in and a large commons lobby later, they were in the elevator, going up to the twentieth floor. Well, seventeenth, if you count the building skipping four, thirteen, and fourteen. The door is unlocked with the same access card, and then their outer coats, shoes, and the umbrella was put on hangers by the entrance, and then Simon told Jack to shower first as he ordered a meal for them.

" _Nothing too fancy_ my ass. Holy shit."  
Simon called out a "Thank you!" in response from the kitchen, muffled by the thick wooden door.

Fifteen minutes pass and the two brush shoulders as they take turns with the bathroom, and Simon stared a little on how well his hoodie fit Jack's current, small body. Briefly, his mind supplied, _eat them for dinner instead._

"You look. Nice." _Simon Glass you are an absolute disgrace._  
"Thanks. It's really comfy." _I'd be comfier with cuddles haha lmao.. unless-_

They awkwardly shuffle away from each other, and Jack waits in the living room. A few minutes after Simon finished cleaning up, they were having dinner, with their feet comfortably brushing against each other as they enjoyed some pumpkin soup. Here are the things they've learned:

1\. This was in fact, a date, which is highly unprofessional for a therapist and his client.  
2\. That in fact, they kind of don't care, because it's not like they've ever had a proper session anyway.  
3\. In fact, they admit that this is a healthier dynamic for them; falls a little more naturally, comfortably.

"Is it too early to say I love you?"  
"A little, but it isn't too early to call me Simon instead of Glass."

"Simon. Si-mon. Siiiiiimon-"  
"You-"

Simon traps Jack's leg between his shins, restraining them.

"Ooooh, what's the matter, Siiiimoooooon?"  
"I am going to kiss you to shut you up."

And so went on wholesomely the night, with Simon and Jack piling up on the couch, lovingly kissing and hugging and tasting each other's names on their lips. The storm outside raged on, but inside it's warm and lovely, with the roots of a deep connection taking place.

Here's another thing learned;

4\. Cuddling after the rain is very, _very_ good.


	6. "Have a good day at work."

"Have a good day at work."

That was the last coherent sentence Charles could say before he melted into coughs and sneezes, curled up in a coat and two layers of blankets. Julian was oh so very close to just using a sick day of his own to take care of his beloved husband, but upon a whiny lecture (as whiny as someone like Charles could get) he was finally swayed to leave the Site Director quarters alone.

Julian grumbled in the elevator. He wasn't even allowed to kiss him goodbye because _"You will get sick, Julian. As someone who is having a rather nasty cold myself, I have a strong argument against you risking your health for something we can do later without risk of contagion."_

Well, fuck that! Julian thought, even though he agreed that it would be absolutely stupid for him to do.

The elevator stopped, and Julian almost got off on the wrong floor due to being on autopilot. Jack Bright walked into the elevator with a shiteating grin, which was an infinitely worse fate than two seconds of embarrassment.

"Soooooooo, I heard dear old Gears is sick today."  
"Oh shut up."

"A cold, he says. A _coooooooold._ "  
"I can file a complaint to HR."

"No fun! Unlike what probably caused the cold, yeah?"  
"Doctor Bright, that's breaking workplace decency rules. But, sure, I guess I'll take that as a compliment towards my performance."

Jack laughed, and got off on the floor before Julian's.

Well, that was something. Julian went to his seat in his office and the phone rang almost like a cue. He sighed.

"Hello, floor 18 administration department, Iceberg speaking."  
"Julian."

A pause.

"Is everything okay, dear?"  
Another pause.

"Charlie?"  
"I nodded. I forgot that nods were not audible."

Julian laughs, "You're so cute sometimes. But you have to rest. Doctor's orders."  
"You are not a medical professional."

"But I _am_ a doctor."  
"...I nodded again. I have to learn to not do that on voice-only calls."

"Really, Charlie, you should... rest up. Okay? Go to bed."  
"I am already in bed."

"Asleep, Charlie."  
"I am not sleepy."

"Why did you even call anyway?"  
"I love you."

The squeak that escaped Julian's mouth was so barely human that Agatha Rights could reasonably walk through the door with a monster trapping kit in hand. Good thing the office was soundproofed.

"I- woo, I love you too, Charlie."  
"Have a good day at work."

The line went silent. Julian smiled, thinking _I already am._


	7. "I dreamt about you last night."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> monsterfucker supreme

"I dreamt about you last night."

The line crackled with an airy laugh, one that would almost be nonexistant. It belongs to Nobody in particular, but a cherished heart all the same.

"Sooooo, ■■■■■. Oh God that still feels weird coming out of my mouth, what the fuck."

The voice laughed a little harder, and a staticky whine indicated wheezing.

"Meanie!"  
"ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵃᵈᵒʳᵃᵇˡᵉ, ᴬᵍᵃᵗʰᵃ."

"Hmph! You're lucky that I am, or else I'll sic the electroboy on all your lines!"  
"ₛₒ ₛcₐᵣy!"

It was now Agatha's turn to laugh. Ah, what a wonderful voice.

"ᴬʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᵐᵉ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ?"  
"Oh! Yeah. You... well. Remember how... your pictures kind of don't exist anymore? I remembered one. You were at the beach, with a pretty sundress on. Big hat. I don't think I was there when the picture was taken... but.

I dreamt that there was warm sand beneath my feet. A lovely sunny day, sky as blue as your dress. I had one hand in yours and one in your hair. Stark-white as the sand. Your face, though, was covered by it, blown in the wind. No matter how much I brush it back. Your hat flew off eventually with the wind, and I ran to chase it.

And then I remember feeling intensely sad. I miss you. I missed you in the dream and I miss you in my arms in the here and now, too."

The line was silent, but the electric chatter persisted, like a crowd at the park, where they could be holding hands. Maybe someday.

"Hey, ■■■■■."  
"ʸᵉˢ, ᴬᵍᵃᵗʰᵃ?"

"Do you hear your name when I say ■■■■■?"  
"ʸᵉᵃʰ. ᴹʸ ⁿᵃᵐᵉ ˢᵒᵘⁿᵈˢ... ᵍᵒᵒᵈ. ᴼⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ."

"Seductive enough to pull you to my end of the line?"  
"ˢᵉᵈᵘᶜᵗⁱᵛᵉ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᶠᵒʳ ᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵐⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᵈᵃʸ."

"Awww."

The static continues. It sounds comfortable now, like red noise. Like breathing. Like Nobody at all.

"Hey, ■■■■■. I love you. Miss you. Want you for dinner every night."  
"ᵀʰᵃᵗ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ᶜᵃⁿⁿⁱᵇᵃˡⁱˢᵐ, ᴬᵍᵃᵗʰᵃ."

"Not if I eat your—"  
"ᴬᴳᴬᵀᴴᴬ!"

They became giggly messes on each end, but soon enough, the telltale beep of the public telephone brings their meeting to an end. Ten seconds, make it count.

"I love you, ■■■■■. Hope I see you in my dreams later, too."  
"ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒᵒ. ᴺᵒʷ ᵍᵒ, ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ˢᵘˢᵖⁱᶜⁱᵒᵘˢ. ᴵ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʸ—"

_Beep, beep, beep, beep..._

Agatha Rights puts up the phone handle. She walks away, forgetting the name on her lips but not the sweetness of the word. Something so easily said but refuses to unstick itself from her tongue.

So she says instead, "I love you too."

It felt right to do so.


	8. "Take my seat."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> heck it's been a while

"Take my seat."  
"I am _not_ a damsel in distress, thank you very much."

"But you are a damsel."  
"I'll kill you. Oh, and, the coffee's great. Could you get me a cup if you get one?"

"Sure. Five sugars and a splash of cream, right?"  
"Yeah. Thanks, Troy."

Troy Lament got out of his seat and Sophia Light took his place. The wedding festivities were absolutely baller, with a buffet and chocolate fountain, as well as the aforementioned coffee dispenser. Doctor Iceberg and Doctor Gears were both roaming around the venue grounds— newlyweds inseparable as they are— which left most of the guests to their own devices. This meant that both Light and Lament had to stick around a little longer, simply out of it being rude to not at least try for a chance to talk to the two celebrating.

...and also to clean up the inevitable drunken mess that came with Foundation personnel at parties. Talks of files above clearance and the like had always been a pain to dust off. Light wished that her death glare to Cimmerian was sent through, from about nine kgphtjillion miles away across the sea of intoxicated toddlers. At least she was dressed nice, she laments to herself. A long blue dress to match Lament's, with a slit on the side that goes up to her thigh. Hair braided and sideshaves manicured. She even got new glasses frames for this. Urged by her lovely boyfriend, but, yeah. So why does she still feel out of place? She wondered.

Eventually she decided on getting some air. The venue's balcony was small, but comfortable. The breeze was a welcome sensation after being in a crowded, hot area. Lament soon followed, with two coffee cups in hand, filled with ice in addition to how Light asked for it.

"Troy."  
"Yeah?"

Light didn't really know how to put it into words.

"Should I leave early?"  
"I'll drive. We can go... well, do you want to go home, specifically?"

No, she thinks, but her face gave Lament the answer.

"Do you wanna dance, Sophie?"  
"I... sure. Let me get my heels off—"

"No, no. I'll teach you how to step. Okay? Hold my hands."

Maybe it was the dancing that was missing, because she felt a little bit better. One-two-three and Lament was comfortably letting her take a few steps in leading, and sometimes adding a silly little move that made them let loose with laughter.

"Thank you, Troy."  
"You're welcome, a whole lot. I should thank you, actually, for putting up with me playing dress up with you."

"If dress up is your price then I guess I'll accesorize more at work."  
"Oh please do. I even have the perfect piece of jewelery for that!"

Light rolled her eyes, expecting a surprise trip to the mall the next day, or at least a rant about what gems would suit her best, of which she would feign being annoyed, as always.

...her eyes widened when Lament got on one knee.

"Troy this isn't funny."  
"Even with your favourite funnyman?"

"Troy!"  
"Ssh! It's rude to propose on someone else's wedding as it is, Sophie. Let's not alert the masses just yet."

Light pouts.

"They won't hear us, the music's too loud."  
"I know. But I just want to see you relax at this, okay?"

Lament pulled out a ring box from his back pocket, and took Light's hand.

"Sophia Darling Light, will you marry me?"

The ring box opened, and there sat a simple gold ring, with a diamond in the middle, hugged with patterning that looked like stars. A few tiny topazes dotted next to it, and it's... well, perfect.

She closed the ring box, though. Lament doesn't seem too miffed.

"...Troy."  
"Yes?"

"I'm... I'm shitty to you. A lot of the times."  
"I think you're just kind of spoiled. Nothing wrong with that. And there's nothing wrong with not wanting this, either."

"...the problem is that I do."  
"But you aren't ready, and that's okay. We're kind of... semi-immortal, after all. I can wait, and I have eternity to get over it if you say no regardless."

"You say that like you don't want to get married either."  
"I could say the same to you, Sophie."

" _Troy._ "  
"Yeah, yeah. I know. You do want to, but... I really mean it. I'd rather wait until you were comfortable. I mean. I did, and then I went ahead and did this, yknow. Uh. It was a little daunting trying to hide this so I wanted to tell you as fast as I could."

"Trust me I'm not... uncomfortable."  
"Don't lie."

"Okay a little. For- for how long?"  
"The ring? Like... eight months. The proposal just now was kind of on the fly- oh can I stand now by the way?"

"Yeah- yeah. Um."

Lament got up and placed the ring box back in his pocket, and kissed Light's cheek.

"Do you still need a minute? I can hear people cheering for the newlyweds so I'd better join."  
"Yeah. I'll meet you there."

Lament left first and Light took this time to cry. She had absolutely no idea why she was crying, but it was probably the emotional brick finally slamming in. He proposed. He proposed! Sophia! You idiot! Why didn't you just say yes?

She slapped herself on the forehead and grumbled. And then took a deep breath and marched around the balcony before wiping her tears and going inside. Lament waved at her, managing to wrangle both Gears and Iceberg to the side. Objective completed, they both took their leave and Light noted how nice it was. Them, to each other.

"The car freshener's almost out."  
"I'll get more in the morning, dear."

"Thank you."

Light put away her glasses and pulled Lament into a kiss.

"You're welcome," he sighed comfortably, "But keep this up and we'll need the freshener posthaste. Not a lot of stores open this hour."

"My wallet, my gas money."  
"Of course."

Light ran a hand in Lament's hair, enjoying how soft it is despite the tacky sweat from the crowd-heat.

"Troy?"  
"Yes."

"I love you. I don't say that enough."  
"I love you too. And you don't need to."

"I feel like I'm wasting your time."  
"For going slower than my pace? No. That's your comfortable boundary, and yours alone. I can't beg for you. Well, I could, but I don't want to. I'd rather you want me, when you want me."

"But—"  
"Before that. Can I ask you what you were thinking about, when you pouted so cutely in my seat?"

"Troooy."  
"Embarrassing?"

"No. I was thinking about...."

Lament stayed silent, waiting for her.

"I was thinking I didn't belong. In the fun. I think I take party consequences too seriously in general."  
"And because you couldn't dance."

"You've changed that, though."  
"I did. You're welcome."

"How are you like this?"  
"You love me."

"Shut up.... no, not literally!"  
"Sophia?"

"...yeah?"  
"Do you feel... belonged, here?"

"Huh?"  
"With me?"

She gave it thought. The answer came like breathing.

"Without a doubt."

He leaned her seat backwards, which caused her to yelp. Then he climbed over to her side, and arched above her.

"Then that's all either of us need to know. Now, I think you said _your wallet, your gas money?_ "


	9. "I saved a piece for you."

"I saved a piece for you."

Iris' face lit up, hearing what Adams said.

"Thank you!"  
"You're welcome. Sorry you couldn't make it to the party."

The fledgling agent wasted no time in cracking open the tupperware with leftover wedding cake inside. It smelled so wonderfully of coffee and rum, causing her to smile very widely as she took a forkful in her mouth.

"Ith delishus!"  
"You're welcome. So, how's the new Task Force treating you, captain?"

Adams pulled a chair to herself and sat down across Iris, listening.

"Well..." she starts, "We finally got the whole Able paperwork thing taken care of. He didn't end up wanting back on the field regardless, though, and just works a desk job for now. Um. Agent Wojciechoski—"  
"Careful, if her dad hears that name you'll get shot."

"—has been super helpful in retrieval missions. Apparently the deer legs make her really really fast. Agent Bright... well. He's picking a callsign so that'll change soon. I think he's going for Agent Laece? Old word for doctor, but he's open to suggestions. And then there's Sigurrós, who went through the full course of amnestics and is under type green training instead of type blue that Doctor Gears recomended."  
"Oh, how did _that_ go?"

"The cover story's that she had to go through amnestics because of a bad cognitohazard, and that we might've accidentally erased too much. She doesn't remember who Doctor Clef is, and we're keeping it that way. Oh, and, she has new reality anchors that we call _Limiters_ for her magic stuff. So she doesn't hurt herself, mostly."  
"I heard about the fireball spam incident."

"Oh my God."  
"A true wizard at work."

"Okay buuuut we haven't failed any missions yet, and there have been no anomaly related incidents so far."  
"Cool. How's the group dynamic though? Do you like your friends?"

"They're a blast. All a bit grumpy in co-op games in downtime but thet're delightful."  
"I'm glad."

Iris finished her cake, and said, "I wonder how Doctor Gears thinks about this."  
"Trust me, newlyweds give no shits about anything other than making goo goo eyes at each other for at least the first month."

"...huh."  
"Love does that to you, I guess. I've never really had that sweet sort of crushy blushy feeling before, but I'll know when I get it."

Iris closes the tupperware and tosses the fork into the sink, nearly spiking Lament in the head.

"Ah, sorry!"  
"Aw, you missed."

Lament let out a laugh and finished making the two mugs of coffee on the tray.

"Agent Adams?"  
"Yeah?"

"...nevermind."  
"Well that just makes me more curious."

"I. Have you really never fallen for anyone before?"  
"Oh I have. It just wasn't that deep, especially considering back then Clef was still going through the wringer with his trauma bullshit. Friendship dynamic ended up being the way to go for us, and it couldn't be better."

Iris nods.

"I... well. I thought for the longest time that I had a crush on Able, but turns out it was just because I thought that I must have had one, because we were together all the time. But it wasn't that, and now it's awkward."  
"Well that sucks. I'm sure you could be friends again if you tried, though?"

"Maybe. Not now though."  
"Understandable. Though if people as hard headed as Clef and I can stay friends, your eventual talk would probably go a whole lot smoother."

"Yeah. Yeah..."

Adams put her hand on Iris', that rest on the empty tupperware. The latter starts crying, silently.

"Hey. It's okay."

"Is it, though?"  
"It will be."

"Okay."  
"Do you need a hug?"

"...I do, yeah."

They both stand up and Adams gives Iris the biggest, strongest bear hug she could manage. Iris laughed happily, mixing with her earlier sobbing. It's warm, delightful, and very soft. It's what the edge of falling in love is like, to Iris. Though how Adams felt is yet to be seen.

"I gotta go now, Iris. Unfortunately, I have an appointment."

"O- oh. Uh. Okay. Thanks, Agent Adams."  
"You can call me Andrea. It's fine. I call you by your first name too anyway."

A pause. A blush.

"A- Andrea."  
"There you go. See you later?"

"Y. Yeah."


	10. "I’m sorry for your loss.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> offscreen death by suicide mention, as per the title. read with caution. stay safe.
> 
> mildly a vent piece but mostly to follow up on mystery lady intrigue without committing to soul crushing angst on the canon characters

"I’m sorry for your loss.”

Cimmerian's eyes blink open. Bleary, watery— the edges of sunrise, bright orange from the window. He heard the voice sigh, and then shot his gaze at that direction. Saw her, the mystery woman from the night before, with red hair and green eyes like a memory he couldn't quite let go of. Like a happy dream that he woke up from. Like sand in his hands, escaping from every gap to be picked up again but never quite feel the same.

"Yeah, no... I- yeah I'll be there tomorrow. Yeah. Yeah, thanks."

The sound of a call ending, and feet pattering back to the bed. She forces a smile.

"Good morning, Mr. Cimmerian."  
"Who died?"

She jolts at the direct question, but softens, climbing back under the sheets to hold the man close. Cimmerian doesn't fight back, despite the steadily increasing need for an aspirin.

"Well, my charming one, there simply comes a time when some people outgrow the life they're living."  
"...I see."

"You see. I can hear a bit of that mourning, in you. I'm... sorry for your loss."  
"My grief is ancient history, unlike yours. Do you need... anything?"

She laughs, putting her soft hand on Cimmerian's scarred cheek.

"That should be my question. You are my guest, after all."  
"An aspirin. Water. But that can come later. Are you okay?"

She buries her face in Cimmerian's chest.

"How unsightly of me," she sobs, "To burden my guest with this."  
"You couldn't have known. I just happened to catch your eye, and we happened to have just hooked up last night. And I don't mind at all— hug me for as much as you need."

"Thank you."

Cimmerian places a small kiss on the top of her head like it was familiar (and to him, it was, but this lady needn't know that), then brushes his scarred fingers on her head. Feeling her hair; less curls than waves, and soft as silk. Though both their hands wander after that, they keep it in the comfort zone, until she'd had her fill of crying for the moment.

"I haven't asked you your name yet," Cimmerian whispers, "Do you want me to know?"

"...yes."  
"And do you want me to ask?"

"Yeah."  
"Are you a fairy?"

Again, she jolts, in surprise. Panic settles, but she's quickly shushed calmly by him.

"I'm just behind the veil. I won't rat you out anywhere."

"Oh- oh. Fuck, I'm so sorry."  
"No need. I just thought it would be more transparent if you know that I know."

"I guess. Yeah, half-fae but. Wow, uh. Yeah."  
"Wording's important... so, may I know your name?"

"...yes. My name is Caoimhe." Pronounced Kee-va. "For _dear and noble._ "  
"Well you are, very darling indeed."

There's a slight pause, and they kiss again. Not hungry and feverish like the night before, but more soft and sweet. More... loving. Longing, in fact, but it's hidden behind the wall between reality and a distant dream. Like blinking blearily after a dream of days long past.

"Hehe. Now, about that water and aspirin?"  
"I'll help you make breakfast after that too, as thanks."

But they don't untangle themselves for at least another hour. Neither seem to mind.

**Author's Note:**

> i love adorable old gay scientists


End file.
